


A Gentle Touch

by Nordic_Breeze



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Masturbation, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nordic_Breeze/pseuds/Nordic_Breeze
Summary: An intimate but innocuous moment with Arthur Morgan on a lovely summer’s day leads to something more carnal later on that warm summer’s night.





	A Gentle Touch

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the “Arthur accidentally walking in on his love interest masturbating” prompt. Delightfully self-indulgent.

It’s a warm summer’s day, the warmest one this year. You remove the knitted cardigan over your short-sleeved blouse and drape it over your lap, your eyes lazily gazing over Flat Iron Lake as you marvel at the myriad of twinkles from sunrays reflected by the water surface. A shadow at the corner of your eye catches your attention. When you see who it is, a smile spreads across your face.

“Good mornin’,” Arthur greets, hungover-heavy eyes meeting yours.

You refrain from mentioning that it’s not exactly morning anymore, and accept the wordless request to join you by gesturing to your side. You’re surprised he’s up at all considering his drunken state last night, when he’d ended up ‘accidentally’ stumbling into you as you’d been conversing with Karen and Lenny. A warm tingle spreads across your cheeks as you’re revisited by the memory of him falling into your arms - how close he’d been. Despite your welcoming embrace, he’d quickly excused himself after lingering for about two seconds longer than one would expect had it been purely unintentional.

“Sorry ‘bout yesterday,” Arthur grunts, as if reading your mind, looking down at his hands. “Me and my stupid, drunken mind.”

You’d been clumsily flirting for a while now and there’s no denying the chemistry, but nothing has happened yet as neither of you seem to find the timing or courage to make the first move.

“No need to apologize,” you shrug, flashing him a coy smile. “It was rather nice.”

“Nice _!?_ ”

“Mhm.”

“How - eh, what kind of nice?” he hesitantly asks, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Your heartrate picks up. Because of the man sitting beside you yes, absolutely, but also because here might be your chance to speed things up a bit. You ponder how to reply. Even if you’d found the courage to tell him how you feel you doubt he’d believe you. You know him that well by now. How can you allude to how good it feels when he’s close? Maybe a hint of subtle flirting as a bonus?

“You know. Like goosebumps, but the good kind.”

He looks like a question mark, so you decide to give him a demonstration. You stretch out your arm and turn it so your palm faces upwards. Then you place your fingertips at the tiny groove in the middle of your wrist and start stroking yourself between your wrist and elbow. Not before long, a handful of tiny bumps appear on your arm. You flip to show him.

“Now you try.”

Daring him, you stretch out your other arm, the one closest to him. He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to but because he can’t get his head around the fact that anyone would ask him to touch them willingly, especially someone as sweet and lovely as you. You urge him on by closing the distance, simultaneously giving him a tiny nudge with your shoulder. He slowly moves his hand to hover over yours, his fingers lingering at the nape where your hand meets your arm before he ensues caressing you by moving his fingers from your wrist towards your elbow and down again, as you’d shown him. Slow and gentle. Sweet tingles shoot through you, all of you. Almost immediately a myriad of goosebumps appear – and not just on your arm.

“Look,” you say, flipping your arm around to show him. “It’s because of you.” Another nudge, this one with a little more edge to it.

“ _Me?_ ” He asks, baffled.

“Yes. Your touch.”

You could’ve sworn you just saw Arthur Morgan blush.

~*~

As you lie on your cot that night, listening to the sounds of crickets and muffled conversations of the night owls still gathered around the campfire, your mind drifts to Arthur and how good it had felt when he’d touched you. Nothing else happened after that, yet it had been the most erotic moment of your life. You close your eyes, reliving every second. How you wish Arthur was here with you right now. Your fingernails start caressing your underarm as you vividly remember Arthur’s fingers on your skin. Pretty soon, you’re covered in tiny bumps from top till toe. You move on to your other arm repeating the procedure, drawing a deep breath as you feel heat building up at your core. A familiar sensation after you had started spending so much time with Mr. Morgan.

You look around, still unaccustomed to have an entire tent to yourself. After a successful job last week, John and Bill had gone to Saint Denis and bought more – and larger tents, which you and the other girls had helped set up. Now everyone had their own, fully closable tent. You didn't mind sharing a tent with the girls, but there was no denying privacy was nice. Especially now. As if moving by itself, your hand starts working on unbuttoning your nightgown. You shift slightly, pulling at the clothing and pushing the fabric aside, just enough to expose your breasts.

Your fingers trail the bare skin on your chest, staying clear of the most sensitive parts. You tell yourself you’re just taking a minute to recall Arthur’s touch before going to sleep, but even the mere sensation of air flowing over your exposed breasts is enough to serve as erotic stimuli. Deep down, you know where this is going. You start fondling your breasts to the mental image of Arthur kissing your nipples.

More buttons come undone and you reach down to slide your hand in between your folds. As so many times before, the mere thought of Arthur taking his pleasure from you has already made you soaking wet, and you slide your fingers inside of you with ease. Closing your eyes, you spread your knees apart, allowing yourself to get lost in your fantasy of Arthur touching you, stoking the fire between your legs, taking you, thrusting into you - hard. You know you need to be quiet. The tent serving as a physical barrier between you and the surroundings is in no way soundproof. But you can’t help it. His name slips between your lips.

“Arthur,” you whisper. “Oh, Art-“

“You know I’m here?”

Your eyes fly open and you throw your nightgown around you. You most certainly did not.

“What the - what are you doing here?! Why are you - ?”

“I-I’m sorry, <y/n>. I’ll go right away.”

“No wait, I didn’t mean –“ Even though you just want to sink into a hole the ground, you stop him before he leaves. With your dry hand. “We might as well talk it out now or else things are going to just get terribly awkward between us. And I don’t want that.”

You reckon things would be awkward anyways, but hopefully not of the I- _can-never-look-you-in-the-eyes-again_ kind. He nods, settling next to your cot on a crate serving as a stool, staring at the ground in front of him. For once, he’s not wearing his trusted hat, meaning you can see his face. You’re somehow both glad and mortified.

“How long have you been in here?” you start, your fingers clenched around your open nightgown. How had you not heard him enter? Sure, as an outlaw he knows how to move around quietly and you had been pretty lost in the moment but still…?

“Just for a moment. A few seconds. Maybe a minute. Or less. I was just comin’ to check on you.”

You arch a brow. “At this hour?”

“Okay. I wanted to - talk to you, I guess. I was in my tent and I couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout today. I didn’t know you was- I didn’t mean to peep at you like some creepy pervert. I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t hear anythin’ outside, I mean, you do this often, or…?”

“NO!”

“Sorry, ain't my business. I didn’t mean it like that, I-”

“And even if I was, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, course not. Look, I’m real s- I had no right to- but I was already halfway inside when I- and I figured I couldn’t leave the tent open.”

“But instead of closing it in front of you, you closed it behind you.”

“I - um,” he mumbles something inaudible.

“You enjoyed the show that much, huh?”

Even in the dimness of your tent, there’s no doubt that now you’ve definitely seen Arthur Morgan blush. You sit in silence for what feels like hours though it’s only a few seconds. The tension aside, you can’t help but to laugh. How you’d longed for, wished for something to finally happen between the two of you, albeit not like _this_.

“You know, I was also thinking about earlier,” you confess. “That’s why I was, you know. I got carried away and things just – happened.”

Finally, his piercing blue-green eyes meet yours. “You was thinkin’ ‘bout me?”

“Pretty sure you heard your name there, Arthur.”

A shy smile forms on his lips as he diverts his gaze to the ground. Then he start to rise. “I guess I should head back and, eh-”

“Leave me to my unfinished business...?” you suggest in a cheeky tone.

“Um, yeah. I’ll leave you to it I guess,” he chortles.

“Unless you want to stay. To watch, or, maybe assist.”

You can’t quite believe you said that last sentence out loud. Might as well go for it, right? There’s no way this could get anymore awkward anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? He leaves and from here on out will be too embarrassed to ever speak to you again.

He freezes mid-movement in a half upright, half crouching position, staring at you dumbfounded, not quite sure if he heard you right. You don’t even wait for a reply. Letting go of your unbuttoned nightgown, it falls down your shoulders, exposing your curves as you reach up to pull him close.

You love foreplay as much as the next woman but you’re already wet, taut and ready. You both are. As soon as he’s freed himself, he takes you, and you wrap your legs around him to encourage him on. It takes but a few shallow thrusts for you to come undone. You try to be quiet. You fail. You both fail. The moment you let go of your clutch around his shoulders, he pulls out and spills on your stomach.

The next day, everyone at camp knows you two are an item.


End file.
